


Prolonged Exposure

by MatildaSwan



Category: The Hour
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That’s why this had happened to her, she supposed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prolonged Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> kinkbingo: medical kink and a_writing_muse: life.

Being surrounded for so long by so many machines: their beeping and humming invading her fitful sleep; the stink of ammonia getting stuck in her nose, all that had to have a lasting effect on people. The white coats too, swishing behind a doctor strutting down the corridor. Good news for the family of the bone realignment, now recovering three beds down: bad news for the collision that come in an hour ago. They did all they could, they were very sorry. That whisper: hushed sympathy followed by hysterics, silence wracked with sobs.

That’s what all this was: exposure to that building and everything it housed inside, everything she’d gone through inside its whitewashed walls. It all left a scar, long after the flesh healed over and the stiches came out. It meant something very different to her now; from the wail of an ambulance racing past her in the street, to the feeling of bandage and plaster against her skin. It was different because she was different.

Sometimes, when she was being painfully honest with herself and extremely liquored up, Bel wondered if it was her subconscious’ way of overshadow how she felt about him now, about his body. Sometimes she wondered if she was creating more reasons to be disgusted with herself, for the thoughts that popped into her mind when she wasn’t concentrating. She loved him, so much: would never change. But love and attraction are two different things, and perhaps this was her subconscious’ way of accepting his wheelchair, the scars on his face and the shake in his hand.

Perhaps her body wanted to take some of the strain away from his, so it focused on the things surrounding him: on machines that had kept him alive and the people that had helped. Focused on the symbols of the simple, marvellous fact that Freddie had a life, a life they could share. It was her mind too, she was sure. Attempting to find something, _anything_ that could help her forget the image of him; spread eagled on the grass in front of the studio, broken and bleeding and barely alive. Help her forget the sinking in her stomach as she’d race down the stair as terror and dread took over her entire body. Help her forget the worst moment of her life, when she’d almost lost her best friend.

Perhaps it was the relief of having Freddie here, by her side: alive and breathing and _still here._ Relief so great it flooded her senses and overrode her rational thoughts; bubbling up from her heart to her mind, unadulterated pockets of joy bursting around her thoughts. Recapturing that moment of elation, when a white coat swished towards her with news so sweet she bent at the knees with joy.

Prolonged contact has changed her, marked her; her body and her mind. The bruises on her thighs and the rivets on her palms; badges of honour seared onto her flesh as she straddled him and the chair. They were one and the same now, Freddie and his machines, and they both scrawled their signature on her body. 


End file.
